


Love Autopsy

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Per Manum spoilers, all things spoilers, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6740764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder writes Scully a letter</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Autopsy

Dear Scully,

 

I haven’t slept since you left. I expected the old ‘it’s not you it’s me’ and ‘we should just be friends’ adages when you said you wanted to talk, but I had hoped to convince you otherwise. I don’t like way things ended last night. I don’t like that I didn’t get a say in this. As I sit here, I find that I am unable to dismiss this as easily as you seem to have done.

 

It was not the first time I told you that I loved you, so why would you think I’m mistaken? You said it wasn’t you I loved, but an idea of you that didn’t really exist. I don’t even know how to argue with that because who am I to tell you who you are? But who are you to tell me how I see you?

 

Stop reading now if you can’t hear what I have to say. I’m going try to dissect this as you would and put it into terms you’ll understand. If, in the end, you come to a separate conclusion than I, I expect nothing less than a detailed report highlighting exactly where it is I’m wrong.

 

Sunday, April 16, 2000, 6:02 a.m. Alexandria, Virginia. Begin autopsy of one Special Agent Dana K. Scully, MD. Subject is female. Aged 36 on her last birthday, which is February 23rd, by the way. I know the date, even if you think I don’t.

 

Physical exam (aka superficial notations): 5’2”, but claims 5’3”. 105 lbs. Natural red hair of varying bottle shades throughout the years. Blue eyes (the color of a winter sky, or the Caribbean Ocean, depending on her mood and the light.) Bra size, 34B (I told you this was superficial.) Visible mole above her left lip that she keeps hidden for unknown reasons. Hidden mole on the underside of her right breast that she keeps covered for obvious reasons. Right eyebrow often arched higher than the left, especially when in a state of skepticism or shock.

 

Less superficial exam: Gunshot wound to the abdomen that I will forever hold Kersh directly responsible for. One inch scar at the back of the neck that I blame myself for. Oroborus tattoo above the tailbone that we don’t talk about.

 

I’ll start with the Why incision: Why is she the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think about when I go to sleep at night? Why am I so afraid when we part ways at the end of a day that it will be the last time I see her? Why does ‘Mulder, you’re crazy’ sound like music when she says it? Why does it sometimes feel like I don’t know how to breathe without her? Why does she hide that mole? Why didn’t she run screaming after our first case in Oregon? Why did she stay?

 

An internal exam reveals the following: a thick, frustratingly impenetrable shell around the heart. One can only get in so far. Swirls of fingerprints cover the protective coating, some deeper and closer to heart, others lightly dusting the surface. They belong to her mother, her father, her sister, Dr. Waterson, Jack Willis, myself, Emily, Phillip Padgett. I believe in our own ways, we have all tried to shatter the shell, but none of us have broken through. ***

 

I find a brain with an endless capacity for knowledge. Subject never stops thinking. Not ever. Overthinking may contribute to the thickness of the shell around her heart. My personal opinion is that the two are related. Thought overrides emotion. Facts, not feelings.

 

Evidence of scar tissue in the nasopharyngeal cavity of a cancerous nature. An unidentified metallic chip, inserted at the base of the skull, reminds me every day of the price she almost paid for my search for the truth. Do you know how hard that is for me to think about, Scully? It is utterly terrifying to remember how close I came to losing you.

 

***Please see the following point of clarification: This is not to infer that subject is cold or detached. Subject can be very warm and is highly compassionate, but does not allow herself to entertain the concept of vulnerability. She has built a wall to keep emotion out and vulnerability in. Of the listed subjects, Emily came the closest to breaking through. I saw the bricks begin to fall, but twice as many went up in their place when she died.

 

The most painful thing I see is the empty, aching womb. I’m sorry that I have to include it here, but it’s important. It’s part of you, but it’s part of me too, because it wasn’t just a loss for you, Scully. If you think I’d try to have a baby with you out of a sense of guilt or obligation, I’ll tell you now you’re flat out wrong. Ask me sometime why I said yes.

 

What is it that you think I don’t know about you, Scully? You think that I don’t know you’ll say just about anything to protect your heart? All the ‘I’m fines’ in the world don’t fool me. You’re not an idea in my head, Scully, you’re very real and I love you for all the reasons anyone loves anyone.

 

I love you because you don’t take no for an answer, even from me. I love you because you are staunchly loyal and fiercely protective. I love you because you’re beautiful. I love you because you’re smart. I love you because you’re kind. I love you because you pretend not to find my stupid jokes amusing, but I see you smile when you think I’m not looking. I love you because you find excuses to touch me with your doctor hands, even when you don’t have to, because you know I want you to. Or maybe it’s because you want to. Do you want to?

 

Six days ago you spent the night in my bed and it was perfect and when I woke up you were gone. Last night I told you I love you and you slammed the door in my face. I’ve never known you to run away from the things that scare you. Why this?

 

It is my conclusive deduction that I am in love with the subject and that the subject is in love with me. Put the evidence together, Dr. Agent Scully, and then tell me again that I’m wrong. Refute me. Debunk me. Lay your scientific evidence at my feet and prove it. Prove that we don’t love each other.

 

I will put this letter under your door this morning while you attend Mass. I imagine you’ll recognize the writing on the envelope, ignore it, let it sit on your table while you have lunch, until curiosity overwhelms you. You can have some time to think about it, but not too much time. If you don’t come here by six o’clock tonight, we’ll pretend this doesn’t exist. We’ll go on as we have for years. You’ll still be my partner. You’ll still be my best friend. And we’ll ignore everything else between us.

 

Love,

Mulder


End file.
